On a rainy Thursday evening the first Lithuanian Science Fair began. An interdisciplinary fair showed the diversity of research and studies that Lithuanians at Oxford do. The event gathered undergraduates, graduates, and research fellows to present their academic interests that ranged from political science, to history, biochemistry, mathematics, linguistics, and epigenetics.

There was something to learn from each discipline. A senior research fellow focusing on media and democracy in central and eastern Europe, Dr. Ainius Lasas1 started the evening. However, he did not give a presentation, but began the event with a provocative discussion about democracy and media in Lithuania. He asked the audience to re-imagine democracy where the legal system works for the people, where corruption is minimized, and the elections are fair.

In "Cekuolis" style,2 Dphil history student Donatas Kupciunas contrasted history with science. He said that both of them engage in traveling in time. But whereas scientists travel to the future, historians travel to the past. Indeed, Karolis Leonavicius who is a DPhil candidate at the Oxford Interdisciplinary Bioscience Doctoral Training Partnership, brought us to the future where there is an HIV vaccine invented. But from time traveling, Andrius Vaicenavicius gave us a taste of how mathematics can help with fortune telling business. Since most of the people in the audience admitted that they played the "he loves me, he loves me not" game, Andrius showed us a little trick about how mathematics can help us to determine our love lives. DPhil in sociolinguistics student Skaiste Aleksandraviciute scrutinized our language patterns, and convinced us that language is ever changing and adapting to new contexts. According to her, there is little need to obsess about language 'purity' preservation. And lastly, Dr. Skirmantas Kriaucionis, a researcher at Ludwig Institute for Cancer Research surprised us with his new discovery in DNA.

Thanks to engaging presentations, delicious (and unconventional) snacks that Pijus bought, and energetic curator Andrius, the evening was a great success. It is certainly to become a tradition at Oxford.

This year, – or rather last year, given that those who apply to Oxbridge have to do so by mid-October, – twenty Lithuanians applied to the University of Oxford for undergraduate study. Considering the increase in tuition fees (at Oxford, the fee rate almost tripled), the number of Lithuanian applicants is surprisingly high. While it is yet impossible to make predictions as to how many Lithuanians will join us next year, it is interesting to examine the similarities and differences between the prospective candidates.

Place of education

The majority of applicants are about to graduate from the secondary education institutions in Vilnius. The Lithuanian capital is responsible for half of all applications, with more than 50% of them coming from Vilnius Liceum. A less prolific breeder has been the city of Kaunas, which supplied the University with four new Lithuanian applicants.

Meanwhile, a fourth of all candidates in 2012 originated from places outside Vilnius and Kaunas, and there was also one Lithuanian applicant from abroad. Our candidate list is as follows:1. Vilnius with 10 applicants; 2. Kaunas with 4 applicants; 3. Anyksciai, Elektrenai, Klaipeda, Pakruojis, Utena all share the third place, with one applicant each. The applicant from abroad also falls into this category.

_The most popular degreesDuring his talk this February, Juras Banys, vice-rector of Vilnius University, mentioned that the most pitiable subject of study in Lithuania is Economics. This might be the reason why the largest percentage of student applicants expressed a desire to read Economics and Management (35%). In addition to these seven students, the other three would like to study PPE, a mongrel subject that comprises Politics, Philosophy and Economics, and one is also interested in EEM, the acronym that stands for Engineering, Economics and Management.Four students are interested in sciences (Earth and Computer Sciences, Mathematics and Chemistry among their choices), three in political studies (Law, History and Politics, and Human Sciences respectively), one would like to study languages and another one to combine Math and Philosophy in his or her degree.

_The most popular collegesIt is quite a common experience for an Oxford student to confuse a tourist. On the streets of the city, there is no such a thing as the University of Oxford. Instead, look for independent colleges, which function rather like little universities and which become home for students of this nebulous and pervasive institution.

At Oxford, there are thirty colleges that admit undergraduate students. Those who apply have a choice between naming a college of preference or leaving the decision in the hands of destiny. The data for 2012-2013 display a variety of choices, but an open application (meaning that the student does not care where he ends up) remains the most popular one among the Lithuanian candidates. Just under half of all applicants did not express any preference for a college, while, considering all prospective students across the University, just one fifth of them are as open-minded in regard to their future lodgings and teaching.

Those Lithuanians that made a choice about their three- or four-year long whereabouts, have picked out Queen's (2), Balliol (2), University (2), Exeter (1), St John's (1), Merton (1), Wadham (1) Colleges and Lady Margaret Hall (1). Here are some websites that might be helpful when deciding to be or not to be part of a particular college.

www.chooseoxfordcollege.co.uk – the website functions as a test, based on a number of different factors, including academic matters, college particulars and student life.

check the annual Norrington table if you want to choose a college on the basis of students' academic achievements.

www.thestudentroom.co.uk/wiki/How_to_choose_an_Oxford_College – an informal website, full of helpful information.

_The refereesAlthough no Lithuanian expressed his or her desire to read English literature or language, almost a third of all applications were accompanied by reference letters from the English teachers. However, one should not forget that a good command of English does not make one stand out as an applicant for degrees such as PPE or Economics & Management. Beware of the British candidates who form the staple of all undergraduates at Oxford and who, although do not speak Lithuanian, are highly competent at the subjects they apply for.

Seven applications were supported by subject-related reference letters and as many came in with references from schools' vice-principals.

_Other observations

Both genders are equally well-represented by the number of Lithuanian applicants this year. Yet almost all referees are women;

Just over half of all applicants have some kind of employment history;

Determinism is used as a trump card by more than 40% of all Lithuanian applicants this year. Now we know whom you were destined to be since the early days of your babyhood;

Whether it is a good or a bad fact, I abstain from saying, but no less than 25% of the applicants write better English than their referees;

Brandos Atestatas is still the king among the school diplomas, with 85% of all Lithuanian applicants studying for this type of certification. Two students will hopefully receive their IBs and one will be awarded a different qualification.

Conclusion

In October 2012 we will certainly welcome new Lithuanian students, but meanwhile we can only guess how many of them will be successful and thus will contribute to our numbers at Oxford. In Elizabethan England, the word 'success' meant 'outcome' and was related to both positive and negative situations. Although we hope that as many Lithuanians as possible get a place at this wonderful university, we would like to cheer up those who will end up in other places. In both cases, you can regard the outcome of your application to Oxford as a 'success'. Experience of the university begins with the entrance, but proves to be positive or negative only in the future.

Oxford University Lithuanian Society was grateful to have had Juras Banys, vice-rector of Vilnius University and an Oxford alumni, as a speaker on research opportunities in Lithuania.

Vilnius University is one of the oldest and most famous higher education establishments in Eastern and Central Europe. In fact, its campus is the only representative model of Lithuania in the Mini-Europe park in Brussels. The University was founded in 1579 and now it has twelve faculties, seven institutes, four study and research centres, three university hospital­s, the oldest library in Lithuania, a centre for IT development, an observatory, a botanical garden and a church.­ It covers all subject areas apart from agriculture and arts.

The university is well-funded. The university cooperates with foreign scientists. The university's History and Philosophy departments have been recently refurbished. So far so good: both in anaphoras and prospects for future students. Take care of the sounds and the sense will take care of itself, said Lewis Carroll, the author of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. But then a baby cried from somewhere in the audience, denying thus the rhetoric.

The library in Sunrise Valley, the biggest science and studies concentration in the Baltic region, has been built, but it will remain shut until the spring. It will justify its name when the days are longer, sunrises come earlier and sunsets later. But for now it is left to hibernate in order to save on electricity costs. Similarly, Chemistry and Physics Centres subsist only on paper because of legal constrictions. The teaching itself is sometimes miserable. Economics is a highly-competitive subject in Lithuania, but once you embark on it, the horizon appears much closer than you thought it would be, and you find yourself not in the sea, but in an enclosed basin.

The talk which started as a specific enquiry into the new technical developments, and into Sunrise Valley in particular, soon slid into a more general discussion. It has been rumoured that the British Universities are slowly coming to Lithuania. Yet, which universities seek to establish themselves in our country and how they are thinking of doing that remain a mystery. Asked by the audience to comment and to disclose some of the details about this pilgrimage, Banys only shrugged his shoulders and sighed: 'I wish I knew that myself.'

However, the general concern revolved around the same 'Lithuania and Lithuanians abroad' question. This remained the case even when the heterogeneous audience, featuring current students and alumni from the universities across the UK, was divided by the OxLitSoc president into five subject-based groups to formulate specific, subject-related questions. The questions were anything but specific and subject-related. How can Lithuania lure back the students which have left her to seek their fortune abroad? What can Lithuania offer to those who are willing to come back? What opportunities are there for graduates if they resolved to return?

In order to answer these questions we should come down to earth and stop considering ourselves to be the falling stars in the Lithuanian sky. Dear mother- and father-land, see us and make a wish. On the contrary, we must understand that we are invisible, even when we fall.

You cannot hope for a victory if you do not even buy a lottery ticket. There are calls and competitions. Make an application. At least send a message to let the others know that you exist.

One needs to knock to be let in. No knocking, no answer. Lithuania will not try to get you back (or susigrąžinti, as we say in Lithuanian) if you do not try to go back yourself (grįžti). Notice the ogonek (=tailed) letters ą and į: in Lithuanian, they are used between words with interchanging vowels (such is one of the numerous rules). Ignore the interchangeability, and you will misspell. And misspelling exists not only in the Lithuanian language: spelling is either right or wrong whichever language you use. Go to Lithuania or remain in the UK: science either is or is not, and nationality has nothing to do with it. As Banys emphasized, science does not have borders.

But then there is another problem, as it was identified by one of the participants. Lithuania is rather small and its resources are rather meagre. What to do if one is too smart for this country? Won't (s)he get discouraged? What a nightmare it would be for this student from Oxbridge, this self-made (wo)man Coriolanus, to find himself or herself surrounded by a bunch of intellectually deficient students from Vilnius University!

But then there is another problem, as it was identified by one of the participants. Lithuania is rather small and its resources are rather meagre. What to do if one is too smart for this country? Won't (s)he get discouraged? What a nightmare it would be for this student from Oxbridge, this self-made (wo)man Coriolanus, to find himself or herself surrounded by a bunch of intellectually deficient students from Vilnius University!That for sure would be a nightmare, because those students who remained in Lithuania are by no means less bright. Places at Vilnius University are highly competitive, and a pupil has to get no less than 90% in his school exams to get a funded place. If the teaching at university is not of the highest standard, this does not apply to the learning skills of the students. Together with them one would be able to improve and to modernize the current situation. It is a real shame if the Oxbridge (wo)man feels too special for the country that raised him or her up.We should remember that when we were at primary school our teachers were more intelligent than we were at that stage. The same applies to our teachers at secondary school and, hopefully, to our lecturers and professors at university. I wonder what would happen if suddenly all Oxford tutors stopped teaching because their students still lack MAs and PhDs? Have you read the Lithuanian fairy tale about Jonas, an untutored and mocked countryman? In the end of the story he surpasses, in his knowledge, his educated friends. And it is precisely he who wins the golden pot.

By Kamile Vaupsaite

Last Thursday, Oxford University Lithuanian Society, in conjunction with Oxford Polish and Czech-Slovak Societies, hosted Edward Lucas, famous journalist and correspondent of The Economist. I bumped into him at the Lodge of Jesus College, and I was pleasantly surprised by his familiarity with Lithuania. He knew we do not speak Russian.

I got used to the British eyebrow-raising and their failed attempts to indicate the geographical location of my country or to tell the name of its capital. The closest shot usually ends up somewhere 160 miles away in Riga. More often, however, Lithuanians, for the British, live 'somewhere in the east'.

These blunders have made me forget that some people can have more than a fleeting interest in my country. Not only did Lucas know the capital of Lithuania, but he also felt at ease handling everything related to Eastern Europe in all its height and breadth. 'This talk,' Lucas began after the introductory speeches by the presidents of all societies, 'is about a concept that never really existed, doesn't exist now and certainly shouldn't exist in our "new normal" future. My aim is to persuade everyone in this room to stop using it.'

Three days passed after Lucas's talk, but I have just used the abstraction he had so fiercely condemned. The bogus 'Eastern Europe'. In Lucas's words, this label fits only the dustbin. It is a relict of the Cold War. A species of shorthand, applied to the countries that were behind the Iron Curtain, and practised by contemporary journalists, lazy economists and commentators. Laziness is not in my bones, but the Eastern European blood runs through my veins. And it would be idle not to admit it.

Lucas tried to take the concept apart by putting its constituent parts at stake. Are the countries of the so-called 'Eastern Europe' in the East? Not really. Prague is west of the 'western' Vienna, the Baltic States are on the same latitude as the 'western' Finland, and the 'western' Athens is more east than Vilnius. Are or were, then, the countries of the so-called 'Eastern Europe' ruled by the East (meaning, Kremlin)? Again, the answer is 'not really'. Yugoslavia and Albania had their own communist regimes even when the Soviet Union was still alive. And when it finally broke down, the hand of Kremlin slackened.

'The "Eastern Europe" as a category is an illusion and its use is not just anachronistic, but damaging,' said Lucas. According to him, the concept imposes erroneous images upon the countries it aspires to define. It connotes crime and corruption, poverty and backwardness, weakness and lack of freedom, grumpy faces and raw potatoes.

It certainly does, but, one has to add, the concept has also acquired positive connotations. Now, when Greece is performing worse than Latvia, Estonia is far more high-tech than Italy, and Lithuania has one of the highest women literacy rates in Europe, the concept 'Eastern Europe' has become, to some extent, flattering. Even the workers from Eastern Europe are renowned for their discipline, efficiency and industriousness.

Instead of 'Eastern Europe' Lucas suggested three alternative groupings: 'Baltic Europe' ('Five Nordics, three Baltics, plus Poland and Germany'), 'Danube Europe' (Germany, Austria, Hungary, Serbia, Romania and Bulgaria, plus more if the whole Danube basin is included) and 'Roma Europe' (countries that share the fast-growing Roma population). 'All those categories are useful. They are labels with some kind of meaning,' claimed Lucas. They surely are but that does not mean that the label 'Eastern Europe' does not have a meaning too. During his talk Lucas posed a question. Name the only country in Europe that corresponds to the following clues:

it is in the EU and it meets the EU's rules on deficit and debt;

it is in NATO and spends 2% of its GDP on defence, as NATO requires;

it is in the euro zone and in Schengen.

That country is Estonia. The so-called ex-communist 'Eastern European' country. Or maybe not?In his article on the booming economy of Estonia ('Estonian exceptionalism'), printed in The Economist on 16 July 2011, Lucas concludes that 'the go-ahead Estonians' are ready to leave their neighbours: 'Goodbye ''eastern Europe''; welcome to the ''new north'''. In other words, Estonia has crossed the ideological border without changing its geographical location. Yet in his talk Lucas seemed to dismiss his six-month old conclusion: he claimed that 'Eastern Europe did make sense once, but it doesn’t now'. But if it really does not make sense now, to whom does Estonia say goodbye in Lucas's July article?

Edward Lucas's talk was persuading, well-informed and forward-looking, and his discussion of the problems of the region with the despicable name impeccable. And yet his conviction that the concept 'Eastern Europe' should be relinquished did not persuade me. One cannot simply 'drop it', for it would involve throwing into the dustbin part of your identity, crowds of grumpy faces that you have met on the streets and the raw potatoes that you have eaten with relish. Not to speak of the smell of mandarins that characterizes our pre-Christmas time. What if instead of dropping the concept we would try to modify its connotations? If we only smiled more and learnt how to cook the potatoes?

About five hundred students have gathered on Thursday evening to Vilnius University (VU) Theatre hall. They came for a discussion held on 22nd September, favoured by four prominent members of academia and business in Lithuania. The discussion’s theme was „Academicism in Lithuania“, and it was organized by the joint forces of Oxford, Cambridge and VU Lithuanian student societies. The speakers shared their insights (some of them were rather enlightening and inspiring) about the situation of the Lithuanian Academia. Ideas spanning from citizenship to policy-making, mass psychosis to emerging culture of start-ups in Lithuania have been presented by Dainius Pūras, psychiatrist and lecturer in VU; Mantas Adomėnas, member of Lithuanian Parliament, who also received his doctoral degree in Cambridge university; Ilja Laursas, a graduate at VU and CEO at telecommunication company GetJar; and Remigijus Tamošaitis, literary critic and lecturer in VU.

The speakers were, as usual, remarkable at identifying the main problems of the Lithuanian Academia. They highlighted the fact that the older academics in the university are unable to go alongside with rapid progress of technological society and the global trends in science, and so are dropping behind in what are the most important skills in modern society. I. Laursas shared his insights about the gap between theory and practice in the academic community, and suggested that universities collaborate with local businesses and keep in touch with the reality behind the university’s walls. He gave presentation about start-ups that give an excellent opportunity for young people to put their skills into practice, and also encouraged Lithuanian students to take example from foreign universities, where students gather to specialized student clubs and societies and improve their knowledge and skills in these shared-interest groups.

D. Pūras talked about the soviet heritage among the lecturers and officials in the higher education institutions, and encouraged students to be daring, rebellious and demanding with regard to it. Bearing in mind that he himself seemed to be a good example of the old-fashioned lecturer that he was talking about, his self-criticism and courage were rather inspiring. All speakers, though, agreed that students in Lithuania are showing strong signs of motivation, intellect and demanding nature, which gives a hint that the dormant potential for change is ready to reveal itself – though support and openness from University officials might speed the process and make it easier.Few larger events in Lithuania avoid the painful theme of emigration, and this forum was not an exception. However, the speakers did not reiterate the boring “nation is evacuating, oh we should do something!“ discourse; rather, they viewed emigration as an opportunity for “mind circulation”. It has real potential to inspire progress in Lithuania through expertise and fresh ideas that returning students will bring back. R. Tamošaitis talked about his own experience twenty years ago with internship in Chicago. According to him, experience of another culture changed the way he thought about his own home country and in some sense “liberated” him. Provided that the students come back and bring whatever best the other countries have, this could be an unprecedented emergence of new trends and progress in Lithuanian Academia and beyond.

The greatest challenge though, according to M. Adomėnas, is the polarization and hostility between emigrants and those who remain. Lithuanians still find it difficult to understand that they are becoming a global diasporic nation, and nurturing close relationships with emigrants is a necessity and opportunity that should not be overlooked. Those who remain are often angry on emigrants, says the politician; however, one day the time has to come when Lithuanians from all over the world start to collaborate and strengthen their relationships.

M. Adomėnas, who was especially eloquent that evening, shared some of his views about politics in Lithuania. In his opinion, academics play an insignificant role in policy-making, and Parliamentary discussions lack rational and scientifically-based arguments. Instead, votings happen in a “tribal” way, when members of Parliament just submit to the orders of the party leaders. This turned out to be a problem, since many MPs are highly incompetent, and, lacking rational voice from the academicians, Parliamentary discussions are transformed into mere battlefields for different interests and games of power.

The discussion was intensive and diverse in speakers’ characters and opinions: from insightful and practical tips by businessman I. Laursas to pure expression of academic moderation in the literary reflections of R. Tamošaitis; from monotonous voice of professor D. Pūras to presumptuous declarations of the politician M. Adomėnas in the view of upcoming Parliamentary election. They discussed academism in Lithuania – the issue that is of prime importance for everyone who studies in Lithuania, or who entertains thoughts about coming back after completing their degree abroad. The amazing variety of backgrounds of the speakers enriched the forum and gave life to the debate.

Sadly enough, this time the forum could offer little for those who are practically-minded and want to get their hands on working towards the shared goal of academic excellence in Lithuania – except maybe for I. Laursas, who gave some practical insights about partnership and collaboration between businesses and academic institutions in Lithuania. Although sometimes the discussion lacked clear direction, it still served as a good introduction to the subject, offering an overview of the situation and highlighting the main problems in the Lithuanian Academia. Hopefully, this will form the basis for further discussions and workable plan of actions in the upcoming events organized by the students from Oxford, Cambridge and Vilnius University.

By Kamile Vaupsaite

It was 5 May when prof. Leonidas Donskis gave a talk with an intriguing title, ‘The Dissonances of Memory: Talking Past Each Other in the EU’, at the University of Oxford. Commencing with a quote by Milan Kundera, Donskis proceeded to discuss memory, its relation to history and politics as well as its implications for the individual, his rights and society.

According to Donskis, memories are not homogenous. Sometimes they do overlap, but more often they are irreconcilable. How does one remember the establishment of the Independent State of Croatia in 1941-1945? Does one rejoice at it, seeing it as an achievement, or does one bow one's head in shame for the creation of a puppet state under the Nazi regime? The ambivalence of the twentieth-century history, the totalitarian past, made the countries both victims and perpetrators, stated Donskis.

Therefore, the answer to the question which regime caused most suffering can bear no big name of a particular ideology. Whichever regime it was, suffered those who were deprived of their human rights and their humanity.

Donskis emphasized that memories are not always dissonant. They sing in unison when culture and arts are remembered. 'Muss es sein? Es muss sein,' quoted Donskis, recalling the closing movement of Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 16. Music, together with other artistic fields, has no political boundaries to impede the workings of memory.

Politics should be scraped off the memory like the mud from walking boots. It should not interfere with the process of remembering. According to Donskis, memories deal with the past and the past should be left to historians.I remember (if my memory does not mislead me) how in my school years I have scribbled down the fact that Mussolini cut down on the number of history textbooks from 334 to only one, approved by the fascist regime. Mussolini did so to impose his memory on others. He wanted to reduce history – in Lithuanian we call it istorija – from a collection of stories – istorijos – to a single story – istorija. The ambiguity between history and story in the Lithuanian language – both are called istorija, – reflects how easy it is to pass from one to the other, from plurality to singularity.Donskis's talk abounded with memorable literary allusions. Among many others, the professor mentioned Primo Levi, an Italian Jew who survived the Auschwitz. Mentioned, but did not quote him. Literary memory is what helps the narrator in If this is a man keep his dignity. When Primo Levi returned from the concentration camp, the compulsion to ensure that everyone remembered what had happened was so strong that from a chemist he became a writer. Memories burnt within me, wrote Levi. Apart from writing, he went and told his story orally – like a modern Ancient Mariner reciting his tale to everybody on the street.Levi acted on the basis of his memories and his actions are a clear illustration of the double nature of remembering. It is both a thought and a deed, observed Donskis. To remember is to have continuity, to remember is to be human, to remember is to care. Yet memory also kills, Donskis warned us. In order to survive we have to know how to forget. Tamina's suicide in The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, Levi's and Pavese's in the non-fictional world – they remind us that to be able to hold onto life one has to learn to let go. Fixation, as Dante discovers through his journey to the underworld, is characteristic of Hell.

After a quasi one-hour talk, the floor was opened to questions and discussion. How multi-faceted is memory? It can be living, historical, political... It is selective in its forgetfulness and exaggerating in its remembering. Memory is not a reflection ofreality but a reflection on reality.

The importance of memory was already understood by the Greeks: truth (alēthea) is what is not forgotten (lethe). The lecture given by prof. Leonidas Donskis was memorable, and, to some of us, even unforgettable. Oxford Lithuanian Society would like to thank the professor for that which is not forgotten.

Three days ago members of the newly founded Oxford University Lithuanian Society gathered in a small underground room at St Hilda’s College to celebrate the Lithuanian Independence Day. It was warm outside and it felt even warmer down in the basement, for although heat has a tendency to go up, the Lithuanians are anything but cold people. Especially when it comes to the celebration of one's roots.

After a brief introductory speech by Emilija Beinortaite, all Lithuanians joined in to sing the Lithuanian National Anthem. (...)Let your sons draw their strengthFrom our past experience,

our lips went, and as all wishes come true on this magical day, we did sound, with our trembling and jarring voices, like the legendary wolf of Gediminas' dream.

Gediminas was one of our dukes. In 1323, after an exhausting day of hunting, he fell asleep in a valley, dreamt about a howling iron wolf and was told to build the city of Vilnius. The howls, according to the soothsayer Lizdeika, were indicative of the great future of the city, of its fame resounding far and wide. And thus we, the Oxford Lithuanians, shook the windowless room at St Hilda's and made those above us aware that a) the ancient wolf of Gediminas' dream has come into being, and b) it has also multiplied itself. So the fame spreads – for the good or bad of Lithuania.

When our wolf-like voices dissolved in the air, the front stage was taken up by Donatas Kupciunas, a history student at Jesus college. He gave an insightful lecture on the causes, conditions and consequences of the events in 1918, the year in which Lithuania has gained independence for the first time. Sitting at the table in a pensive manner, Donatas reminded one of Algimantas Cekuolis, a Lithuanian writer and journalist, famous for his eponymous Sunday afternoon talks on TV. Like him, Donatas did not intrude his views upon the listener, but focused on facts. And the facts brought him to a factual conclusion that the Lithuanian independence was a 'miracle'. The Lithuanian flag behind his back, with its yellow-for-light, green-for-nature and red-for-blood stripes, was a clear indication that miracles do happen. The evening continued with the performances by other sons and daughters of Lithuania: first me on the electric keyboard, then the brothers Juozas and Andrius Vaicenaviciai. As they were joined by Marius Vaicekauskas, their almost relative-by-surname, the family duo became a trio. Or rather a quartet, for the performers used more instruments than their number reasonably allowed. The sound of voices mingled with the voices of the guitar, violin and keyboard. But nobody howled.

The evening concluded with a warm thank you from the audience, and everyone promised to meet again in March, on Pancake Day. The half-formal commemoration at St. Hilda’s was followed by a less formal gathering at Karolis Bauza's house. And, contrary to all expectations, the wolf pups of Oxford did not start howling as the moon rose. We turned into robins and continued chirping well into the night.